


The Dragon & The Lamb

by CarrieMaxwell



Series: Working Late [3]
Category: Let's Play (Webcomic), let's play by Mongie, webtoons - Fandom
Genre: Confession, Desire, F/M, Finally together, First Time, Foreplay, Hair Pulling, Kissing, Mentor/Student, Porn, Sex, Smut, Temptation, cooking brekfast, from coworkers to lovers, secondbase, soul mates, stay with me, virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieMaxwell/pseuds/CarrieMaxwell
Summary: Charles and Sam have fallen asleep while working late the night before. He drives her home and offers to make breakfast and finds himself bargaining for so much more.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Series: Working Late [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661527
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	The Dragon & The Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place the day after 'Working Late' and can be read as a stand alone or follow up to that.

Early morning sunlight peered through the blinds of his office, birds were chirping, and his leg felt oddly numb. Charles awoke, found himself still in the sitting position from last night, and his lovely assistant sprawled across his lap. Her hair was mussed and the bun nearly undone. She looked ravishing. Her glasses lay on the floor, they must’ve fallen from his hand when he had passed out. He surely remembered removing them from her face but not much after that.  
She stirred and stretched, rolled onto her back, giving him an enchanting view. But it was too early for fantasies, he needed to put an end to this and get them both to their homes. A day away from her to cool his hormones was in order. He looked down and caressed her cheek as he was wont to do. He had found himself doing it more often than not, but she had never pushed his hand away. In fact, it seemed that she thrilled for it, like a cat too proud to admit but melting under their masters’ touch.  
“Samara.” He called to her. “Time to wake up, Little Lamb.”  
She shifted some more. Her hand brushed his aside and turned her head. A little more gentle shaking and calling out to her and the sleeping spell was broken. Her dark eyes opened, squinted, she rubbed them, and then they widened like never before. She suddenly shot upwards and nearly smashed his nose if not for his quick reflex.  
“Oh my god!” she cried in alarm, flailing to get off the couch. Charles snaked his arm around her waist to keep her grounded. While he was amused at her comedic reaction, he also didn’t want to end up with a black eye.  
“It’s alright Bunty,” he coaxed. “We had quite the productive night and passed out from exhaustion. Far better of us to stay here than taking the risk of driving ourselves home.” His other hand had reached down to retrieve her glasses. He blew on the lenses to remove any carpet lint and handed them back to her. She took them without meeting his gaze, still trying to come to terms with what happened. Now that she was calm, his arm cradling her had released its hold.  
He could tell from her silence and slight quivering that she was extremely embarrassed and blushing so hard that even her ears were red. Thank goodness they were the only ones here today. At least, for the moment. The cleaning crew came in on the weekends.  
“I trust you slept well. Did I make an excellent pillow?” he chuckled, hoping it would alleviate her distress. He stood up and smoothed his vest and shirt before offering his hand for her. She still was avoiding at looking him directly, but accepted his hand. On her feet, flat footed, she was even shorter compared to him, becoming eye level to his shoulder. She began adjusting her clothing, and undid her bun. God, I must look like a hobgoblin. There was an urgency to her movements, getting her things together and trying to play off the Just Kill Me Now cloud hanging overhead. Charles had collected the papers, bringing them to his desk and posting Stick-It notes next to segments he had remembered approving of last night. It was a little bit of both that they had felt would make for an excellent arrangement for the company. Both employees named Anderson would still be on the chopping block as far as he was concerned. He kept glancing at Sam as she once again jammed her feet into her heels and unsteadily maneuvered around his office in an attempt to look busy. Her nervousness was only drawing his attention more, fight it as he may.  
“I believe that’ll do.” He said, carefully clasping his briefcase. “Let’s depart for any of the janitorial service arrives and suspects the worst.” He didn’t have to tell her twice, she was already at his door, her satchel slung over her shoulder.  
He looked up and down the hallway before signaling for her to follow. When her heel wobbled, he took her hand and led her as if they were teens sneaking away from their tryst. He had heard the telltale sound of the cleaning cart being dragged along for it had one wobbling wheel, and they made it out of the office floor and into the parking garage unseen. Feet still moving fast, still holding hands, they managed to share a little laugh as they made to his car.  
It was almost like a game of Tag, them making it to Base.  
Of course he opened the passenger door for her and helped her ease into the seat as he had done before, then dashed around quickly to the other side and flung his mechanical beast into Drive. Samara still shrank down and covered herself with his jacket as they passed the guard post, but Charles made no small talk as he slipped his card into the device and the bar rose. He was gone before the guard could utter a greeting.  
“The coast is clear.” He announced, once they had made it a good block away.  
“Easy for you to say. They still know that your car didn’t check out until morning.” She countered.  
“It is not my first time staying the night in my office.” He stated. “Why do you think I have such a soft sofa in there?”  
Her head swiveled in his direction for the first time. “You’ve slept there before?” she asked in mix of shock and concern. “You don’t have a…a…” she trailed off.  
“A what, my dear?” he chuckled as he made a left turn. “A girlfriend?”  
“A pet?” Sam managed to get out.  
Charles couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up from her adorable attempt to cover her question. “Not even so much as a beta fish. I do have a plant though. Not nearly as needy.”  
The stopped at a red light. He turned to look at her. “Would you like to stop and pick up breakfast, or do you want to head straight home?”  
Disheveled as she was, he was willing to be seen in public with her? But not even the momentary thought could outweigh how she felt about her appearance. Her voice wavered so she shook her head in response. Was it her imagination or did he actually look a little let down from that?  
The rest of the ride was in silence. Charles maneuvered expertly through the parking lot of the complex and parked. Before Samara could even reach for her door, she felt a hand on her knee. She instantly froze.  
“I had plans too last night, that I had to cancel on. I just wanted you to know that you’re not the only one feeling nonplussed by this.” He took a breath. “I promised I’d give you ride home and dinner but I want to make up for you not being able to sleep in your own bed.” He looked at her intently. “Would you allow me to make you breakfast?”  
Her initial reaction was just to get out of his car as fast and gracefully as she could, then hoof it up the stairs and throw every piece of clothing she had on into a pile on the floor and hide under her blanket. Falling asleep practically in her boss’ lap was now another thing on her list of Things To Die From Embarrassment from and she was worried that any more time spent with him could lead to more entries on that list.  
But….  
The thought of Charles Jones, with his golden hair gleaming in her kitchen light, an apron around his waist, sleeves rolled up and flipping pancakes like Gordon Ramsey was something she just had to see.  
“Your offer is accepted.” She smiled, touching the hand that rested on her knee. For just one moment, they neither breathed nor spoke, just eyes communicating to eyes until they both let go and opened their doors. Charles met her and offered his hand to assist her up in what was becoming routine for them. He held her hand as she leaned back towards the seat to retrieve her satchel, then closed the door and pressed the alarm on his key fob. He followed her as she led the way. Once she reached the stairs though, she stopped.  
“Is there a problem?” he asked.  
She inhaled and nodded. “Yeah, the problem is going UP the stairs in this darn skirt.”  
“How’d you manage last time?” he nonchalantly asked all while trying to keep his amusement masked.  
“I hiked it up and made a mad dash. But I was alone then.”  
“Well unless you suddenly sprout wings, you’ll have to make do or be carried.” He smirked.  
She blushed, thinking of the romantic image of him carrying her up all the stairs like she was a princess. She let out a weak laugh. “Oh please, I don’t need a White Knight to treat me like a damsel.” She suddenly felt him right behind her, his breath at her ear.  
“I said nothing of being a White Knight.” He purred. “More like a dragon plucking a little lamb off to his den.”  
She immediately spun around to face him. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
He leaned in. “Is that a dare?” he smiled with feline delight.  
She couldn’t back away from him so she stared him down, her stare intense and serious, his playful. “Stop doing that.” She ordered sternly.  
“Stop doing what?”  
“Flirting like that.” Her statement left him feeling as if she had dumped cold water on his head. “You don’t do it with anyone else.” She pointed a finger up at him. “And you can’t say that it’s ‘all for helping me grow out of my comfort zone’ because that can’t be the reason why, every time.” She had taken a step forward and the finger met his chest. “You can’t keep saying things like that.” Her voice had started to lose strength, almost turning into a plea for him to stop. He placed a hand over that little finger jabbing him, then brought it to his lips.  
She shivered when he kissed her fingertip.  
“Do you really want me to stop?” his voice was low, almost whisper like.  
Honestly, no she did not. But if she told him that, what would happen to their relationship? Would it return to the stoic boss/employee like before? Would he even still remotely call her by name? Would he-  
“Samara, you seem at a loss for words.”  
She snapped out of her thought process, yanked her hand back and hitched up her skirt all to his wide eyed surprise and then headed up the stairs with fierce determination. He let her get several steps ahead of him or else her perky little butt would be eye level and far too tempting for his already failing restraint. At her door, she lowered her skirt hem and unlocked the knob before he got in line behind her. He was trying to give her a little space. To the right was the kitchen, to the left was the short hallway that led to the bathroom and bedroom. She slung her satchel on the countertop and kicked off her shoes.  
“Hope you don’t mind if I go get into something comfortable?” she said, stretching her arms and standing on her tippy-toes.  
“I would rather you do. You’ve been fidgeting with that skirt all night. Mind if I look in the fridge?”  
“Have at.” She acquiesced as she sauntered down her hallway, already unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it to the floor. She had no idea his eye followed her but frankly was too bothered to care, she just wanted out of all of it. The skirt hit the floor so fast it caused and earthquake in China, followed by the pantyhose and the tank top she had underneath her blouse. She went straight for the laundry basket and pulled out the two first things that could make an outfit.  
When she re-entered the entranceway, she saw Charles as she had envisioned: hair loose, vest off, top button undone, sleeves rolled up. He stopped when he saw her: hair messy, glasses resting on her nose, a baggy pair of sweatpant shorts, and a tye-dye tank top that was clearly a men’s’ sized Large to accommodate her…uh…assets.  
Gods be damned, by does she look so adorable even like this?  
“Omelet?” he asked, holding up a small skillet.  
“Sounds delicious.” She squeaked. “I wasn’t aware you were also a cook.”  
“Well, when you live alone you have to either learn how, or become a slave to the microwave.” He pulled out spinach and mushrooms from the fridge, surprised to find the fresh ingredients after hearing how she lived on tv dinners most Friday nights. He had already pulled the eggs and cheese and was looking for a mixing bowl when she stepped into her kitchen.  
“Ah ah ah.” He tsked, waving a finger at her. “This is my treat to you, I’ll find what I need in a moment.”  
“But-“ she protested, still trying to reach for a cabinet. That was when everything changed. He stopped her, grabbing hold of her waist and hoisting her up to sit on the counter, right next to where she had laid her satchel. She was at a greater height now, nearly eye level with him, even though he was still slightly lowered and looming over her frame.  
“Now, what part of SIT do you have a problem with?” he inquired as he was just inches away from her, testing her personal space bubble yet again. Apparently, she had had her fill, because she didn’t lean back or tremble. She looked him straight in his icy blue eyes as he searched for a sign of weakness. “Well then,” he smiled. “I guess you don’t mind at all.”  
Her stomach gurgled audibly.  
“One omelet, coming up.” He said, turning his back and getting to work. She watched in rapt fascination as he seemed so familiar with her kitchen despite his first time being it being his first time in there. He chopped with ease, whisked with grace, and flipped with finesse. The meal was ready in minutes. It was delicious, of course. He retrieved the dishes from her and began to wash them, much to her protest.  
He didn’t even glance upward. “My grandmother would come back from the dead and beat me with a cane if she were to know I left dirty dishes in someone else’s sink-being guest or cook-it was just not allowed.” He set to the minor task with ease. After all, it was less than a dozen utensils and glassware. In just a few minutes, all the dishes were clean and resting in the little rack off to the right side of the sink. He washed his hands and then ran his fingers through his hair when he heard her let out a sigh.  
“I rather liked your hair when it was all lose and swishy.” She confessed. “You keep it gelled back all the time at work.”  
He felt a twinge of joy in hearing that. He grabbed a kitchen towel and roughly shook it over his scalp, drying it and getting it back to that swishiness. She couldn’t help but giggle just a little.  
“There. Better?” he asked. “Would you like to touch it?”  
WHAT?  
He stepped over to her and took hold of her left hand. “It’s not every day a man is complimented on his hair-at least, not me that is.” He guided her hand up until she felt brave enough to venture on her own. At first, she was timid, but then began to enjoy the silky soft strands and entwine her fingers between them.

“Have you ever touched a man’s hair before?” he asked as she seemed almost unsure of what to do with it.

“One time I braided Link’s hair, mainly as a joke. But his is really long compared to yours.” She answered.

Ah, Link. That philistine paramedic with muscles to spare. He thought with contempt. Which reminded him, she left with Link that night at the hospital-at his behest-and he had wondered what she meant by ‘spending more time’ with him.

“Are you and he, close?” he asked, as she found herself being more bold by tucking some of his wayward hair behind his ear. The last word felt bitter in his mouth. There was a thick weft that hung down over his left eye. But she had stopped when she heard that final word. He must’ve hit a nerve.

“Well…..we…uh…” she wavered, hands slowly coming down to rest in her lap. “We tried but it didn’t work out.”

“Say what?” his eyes went wide. Did that hulking son of a troll actually try to get intimate with her? “Did he hurt you?”

Sam looked off to the left, biting her lip. Charles placed his thumb on that lip, determined to keep her from gnawing it to shreds.

“A little bit of yes and no.” she finally confessed. Now Charles found himself filled with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years: Jealously.  
How dare someone hurt this precious lamb?  
His lamb.  
“What did he do?” he pressured, gently caressing her lip. She leaned her head back ever so slightly, just enough to put a breath of space between his thumb and her lip. The look in Charles’ eye was piercing, far more intense than ever before, even when she had seen him angry or frustrated. But right now, he looked dangerous. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, we both decided that we’re better off like family rather than trying to date.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

She really didn’t want to relive that painful memory-considering it wasn’t even all that far long ago. But Charles held that powerful gaze she found herself a prisoner of, and he was so damn close, the distance couldn’t get any smaller-well, almost.

“He…we…” her hands started pressing against each other, her breathing was becoming slightly frantic.  
She closed her eyes. “He said he didn’t find me attractive!” she finally blurted out. She felt Charles flinch, a sharp hiss escape through gritted teeth. He swore something Welsh under his breath, something she’d never be able to translate even if she could remember just how many consonants were pronounced. Her hands immediately went to his chest. “He didn’t mean it like that! It’s just that he didn’t know what to say, thinking of me like a sister. He couldn’t bring himself to kiss me.”  
Her words did little to temper him. He wanted to throttle the young man. He knew he’d had speed and agility against him if they ever were to fight, and a fight was what he wanted.  
“Charles please, don’t look like that.” She cried, breaking his dark path of thoughts. “Not even my dad knows about it and I’d rather no one else go and threaten him. Please, I’ve got enough rage from Angela to blast a hole in the earth, I don’t need another Tank trying to protect me.”

His eyes softened, his fists unclenched. It had been so long since that warrior instinct had taken hold of him. The need to protect, to avenge. She had taken his head in her hands, looked him in the eye, pleaded with her heart. She was so warm, so full of light, everything worth fighting for. No wonder her family and friends had spent the whole of her life protecting her from the worlds’ evils. He felt the pull of her light, drawn to it over the past year of them working together, despite how different their roles were then and now.

His arms wrapped around her waist, he buried his face in her neck and held her. Her hands had gone from his cheeks to holding his ribs, his cologne wafting through her nostrils, his silky hair tickling her forehead. She wasn’t sure what just happened, but she knew he needed a moment. She shivered when she felt his lips gently kiss her neck. 

“Charles!” she gasped, letting go.

He nuzzled the tender flesh, enticing another tremble through her. He had crossed the line he swore he wouldn’t cross-at least, not like this. She’d been on his mind all day, all night, and now….he couldn’t stop himself.

“I find myself at a loss to explain my actions Samara, except that I want you.” He all but whispered. “I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me, and yet there I was, pushing you to say what you loved about yourself when you had just been rejected the night before.” He hugged her. “I am so sorry I was demanding so much from you.”

“I didn’t think you’d care for what I did after hours. That’d you say something like I need to keep my home life and work life separate.”

He pulled away from her just enough to bring them face-to-face. “As if I could. I find myself caring way too much about what you’re doing after hours-and with whom.”

She blinked. “You’re jealous.”

“You’re damn right I am.” The dragon coiled around his little lamb again. “More than I even thought I was.” He nibbled her earlobe. “I want to make you mine.” He whispered in a husk that struck her to her core, instantly making her feel a tingle in her most private place. “Say yes, and I will be yours Samara. I will show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.”

It took a moment for it all to sink in. Everything Charles had said just a moment ago, the way he touched her, the way he made her feel. It was everything she ever fantasized about. This gorgeous specimen of male sexiness-who could have literally any woman with just a look-wanted Her. Of all people. He who had stared at her with disdain when they first met, who had given her the cold shoulder and been a taskmaster for a whole year, had suddenly melted into putty in her hands. He was the one making the request, waiting for response.

“I want that.” She answered, watching his face light up. He was even more beautiful when he smiled. He gracefully cradled her chin and brought her closer to him. Their lips met in gentle brush at first, savoring the contact. Her lips were tightly closed to begin with, until he coaxed them open with the tip of his tongue. She sucked in a deep breath and engaged again, grabbing his shirt, feeling his hand press against her back, closing the space between them. He moved himself in between her knees, and her legs began to curl around his thighs. Body pressed to body, lips engulfing lips, hands running through hair.

Suddenly, Sam pulled back, a wheeze in her chest. Charles knew what it meant; his eyes landed on the satchel beside her and flipped it open. Her inhaler tumbled out, a welcome sight. She picked it up and took a deep puff. She followed through with a deep breath. Her face flushed. But she smiled. “I didn’t realize how much breathing was involved with kissing-or lack thereof actually.”

He chuckled. “It is a learning experience.” He tucked some hair behind her ear. “I promise I’ll take it easy on you, no need to rush.” He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Course that’s easier said than done, when I want to sink my teeth into you and not let go.” She trembled at his tone, the imagery his words created, the sensation of what that would be like.  
“I don’t want to stop, but I do not want leave either.” He confessed, his hand running up underneath her shirt, along her back, feeling the goosebumps of her delight. “I find myself losing what little control I have, just seeing the way you react to even this.” He teased, nimbly running his fingers along her spine. “But Samara, you must tell me if you want me to stop, if you feel overwhelmed, if I accidently hurt you.”

She nodded.

He swiftly slid her tank top up and over her head, tossing it on the floor and for a split second, was frozen at the sight of her bra bound breasts.  
The color is what surprised him the most.

Not white. 

Not black. 

But baby blue.

Just like his eyes.

She blushed and went to cover herself but he gently stopped her. His finger traced a delicate line over the soft curves, before sliding over to her shoulder. Her left shoulder, the one he couldn’t keep his eyes off of that entire night they had gone out to dinner. That pesky little white strap that kept slipping down  
every time she moved until she finally left it alone until they were at her doorstep. Her nervousness brought out her instinct to fidget, and when she reached for it that last time, Charles had stopped her. He took the nylon strap, slid his fingers underneath it and slipped it back over her shoulder, all the while allowing himself that simple touch, to savor her soft skin. Now here he was, doing the very opposite, slowly dragging it down, so that he could lay butterfly kisses and feel her tremors of delight.

She tugged at his shirt, hands fumbling with the buttons at first, then steadily undoing them the further down, until the last one-which was tucked into the front of his pants. “Go on,” he coaxed as he continued to lovingly gnaw on her shoulder. “You’re doing so well.”

Taking the initiative, she took hold of his belt and undid it, then pulled his shirt out to undo the final button. She finally was able to look upon his firm torso with appreciation. The first two times she had been distracted, first by gathering her courage to confront him when he threatened to fire Lucy, the second time he had large dark bruises that completely took her focus. But now, as she slid the sleeves down his arms a bit, she could take it all in. That Greek god statue-like physique and beauty, smooth to the touch and yet jarringly hot where her fingers met muscle. He pulled back from her, so he could see her face and the hunger in her eyes. 

“Like what you see?” he teased, knowing full well she did. 

He shook off the loosely clinging button up shirt and it too joined her rainbow tank top on the floor. Then he kicked off his loafers, pushing them aside with his foot so not to trip over them. She watched him with rapt attention, his moves graceful, his body art in motion. Her eyes widened with anticipation when he slipped the belt free from the loops with whip like precision. It hit the floor with a jangle. One hand kept a loose hold to his slacks to keep them upright as he dug his billfold from the back pocket and placed it by her satchel. Then, teasingly, he slowly lowered them, watching her eyes follow every millimeter of movement. Once it past his bulge, he let it hit the floor unceremoniously. His boxer briefs were tight and barely containing his arousal.

“Now it’s your turn.” He said, placing his hands on her hips and tucking his thumbs inside the elastic line between her sweats and panties. She hoisted her bottom up and he slid them down her thighs. Her arms buckled just a little but she managed to keep herself off the countertop for that brief moment. They slid down her calves with ease and became another floor ornament.

He was greatly pleased to see that she had a matching set of baby blue panties to match. A little bow at the top to match the little bow in between her breasts. What she had been hiding under all those loose baggy clothes was delectable. He wanted to gobble her up. How could she ever hate her body? She had natural curves women were starving themselves for. Natural breasts women were buying implants to match. Natural muscle tone for non-athletic body.

“You’re beautiful, Samara Young.” He said breathlessly, placing himself between her thighs and pulling her towards him. The contact of skin against skin was electric. He felt blessed, being the first man to see her like this. And while he had had his share of lovers, he somehow felt vulnerable having her see him like this. Her hands were small and shaking when she touched him, as she explored him, as she softly kissed him. Setting her own pace.

“You’re beautiful too, Charles.” She whispered back, pleased to see a little blush appear on his cheeks. Oh? So the mighty Welsh dragon could be subdued with a little compliment? She mused. She couldn’t contain her little giggle and felt his hand creep up her neck, delicately snag some hair, and gently pull her head back.

“I heard that giggle young lady.” He huskily growled before placing his teeth against her tender skin. A little nip at first, just to get her prepared, then the full on bite. Her gasp was fulfillment. Her nails dug into his shoulders. His other hand ventured to touch her hip, trace a line down her outer thigh, then cross over and dip into her inner thigh. It stirred her body into full tremor. His hand inched closer and closer to her center, she gave no resistance, she knew where he was going and was ready. One slight touch told him she was already wet enough, an experienced woman would be ready to take him to the hilt, but Sam needed to be handled with care, eased into accepting something so foreign to her.

He removed his teeth from her neck, seeing a little red mark left behind. A primal sense of pride came with that, he had marked his territory, made his claim. Although, she would have to wear a turtleneck on Monday. He nestled his face between her breasts, the ample cozy mounds of flesh he had been drawn to.  
Pillows.

Her fingers ran through his hair once again and he nuzzled and kissed the bouncy mounds. How could these things experience such a sensation? They were nothing but heavy blobs of fat that often gave her backaches and made breathing difficult-until now. Now they were objects of desire, bait luring in prey, tingling in a way they had never had before. Her nipples were hardening, but differently from how they reacted to cold temperature. They were pointing against the slim fabric of the bra, making themselves known, begging to be touched. With his face pressing down her bra, little by little, the edge of her areola was exposed. He nipped through the bra, somehow knowing exactly the location of her nipple.

“Ahh!” she called out. From surprise? Pleasure? Both?

He shot a devilish glance her way. He was only just beginning. His index finger had been lightly rubbing against her clitoris the entire time he had been burying his face in her cleavage, giving her mind more than one thing to focus on, giving her body just a sample of what could be had. He had to take it slow so she could breathe easily, not get so overwhelmed and embarrassed that she got overwhelmed and then put a stop to it. But now it was time to up the ante.

He slid the panties aside. He eased in between her wet folds. Like dipping a finger into a pot of honey. Her back arched and she gasped, arms braced at either side of her, welcoming him in. Such a good sign. His middle finger came to join, easing her to accept just a little more girth. He moved his fingers in unison, then apart, driving her further to that point. But as she felt she was reaching that crest, he pulled them out.

A helpless little whimper escaped as she tried to ease her trembling legs. She had turned her head aside, hoping her hair would hide the disappointment on her face. But she felt a hand reach up and turn her chin and meet her lips in a kiss. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his breath mingling with hers as his lips were still touching. She tried to nod but he held her chin firm. “Tell me Samara.” He ordered. “I must hear you say it.”

A little huff and should shrug came from her. It was embarrassing to say something like that out loud. Not that she wanted to stop, except, well, she felt she did need a break.  
“I need a minute.” She answered, still catching her breath.  
He understood the kind of break she needed. It was more often than not that waking the body to arousal would in turn trigger other natural bodily functions-especially for the inexperienced. He held her hips and hoisted her off the countertop.  
“There’s no need to feel ashamed about what you need to go do. It happens to everyone.” He placed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He promised, letting her go and following her down the hallway. She stopped at her bathroom and closed the door. He retraced his steps and picked up his billfold. Inside he always kept at least two condoms-the heir and the spare-and removed one. Wasting no time, he tore the package and slipped it on, then tucked himself back into his briefs-he didn’t want to startle her by sauntering around butt naked swinging his Johnson. But he did remove his socks. He heard the click of the door opening and swiftly met her as she stepped out.

“Oh!” 

He caught her up in his arms, held her buttocks firmly and pressed her against the wall, kissing her roughly and hungrily. And she reciprocated, she wanted to experience it, everything he had to give and teach her. She was a willing student. His resolve was failing by the second, with every kiss, every thrust of his hips, every murmur and mumble and moan and sigh and gasp and scratch and nibble-

He peeled her off the wall and carried her into her bedroom, her legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his neck. Gently he laid her across her bed, a dark blue comforter that made her look like a siren lounging in the deep ocean, beseeching him to drown in desire.  
His temptress.

With his hand under her back, he nimbly undid her bra strap. Then he slid his hands down her sides, causing her to squirm from the ticklish sensation, and continued to slide her panties down. She lifted her legs and allowed to without so much as a word. She removed her bra straps and then was reaching for the cups when he stopped her. He wanted to reveal that last little bit of her for himself, that last little bit of Christmas wrapping.

He found the pair beautiful. Plump, round and absolutely perfect. He’d been trying to deny how he felt for the longest time, been trying to ignore how her body looked under those ‘business appropriate’ outfits she’d been wearing as of late, been constantly reminding himself She is NOT for me. His wall of ice had melted away by her innocent gestures, naiveté, and doe eyes-which were now slitted into quite the sexy glance that told him she was ready. His briefs came down; there were no longer any fabric barriers, only a single latex one. He brought the tip to teasingly touch her and whispered ever so quietly.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” She answered. She closed her eyes as she felt the slick sheath of the condom touch her inner walls as he slowly entered. He hadn’t gotten very far when he stopped; hesitating and regretting what was to happen next. “Charles?”

“It’s going to hurt, a bit.” He stated flatly. “I apologize.”

Then he pushed forward. She took in a deep breath with a cry and dug her nails into so hard he winced. Her whole body shuddered and clenched and the little whimpers that escaped her stabbed his heart. Quite unfair that a woman’s first time had to marked in such a painful way, he had done everything in his power to lessen the discomfort. He saw the tears building upon her lashes and truly felt like the villain her father always told her he was. He had stopped moving to give her time for the initial pain to subside. After a tremor ran through her, her breathing returned to normal and she opened her eyes. Big beautiful dewy eyes that reassured him she would be fine.

She was stronger than she looked, not physically, but mentally. She knew there was a price of blood and pain for this, she was still foraging onward. The moment had come and gone, now the only thing remaining was to fill that void within her, to feel that need be met, by the very one who had awakened the red beast of Lust. She pulled his body even closer to herself, being so bold as to touch his firm buttocks, loving how high his eyebrows jumped and how wide his smile began.  
“My my,” he laughed, “Aren’t we demanding?”  
He acquiesced of course, thrusting into her and watching her mouth become an O but in pure silence. She grabbed his arms, she grabbed the comforter beneath them, and she grabbed his hair. There was nothing safe within arm’s reach. He had made a rhythm of his thrust in time with her breaths’ and when he heard her wheeze, he slowed down. When it returned to normal he resumed at the previous pace. It was a talent developed from his uncanny ability of observation-and practice of course.

He knew she was reaching her limit, as was he. This was by far, more thrilling and intoxicating than slating his primal urges with someone who was nothing more than a name and number in his phone. This was a first for him as well, experiencing her first time had brought out a vicarious feeling within him. This was, in essence, their first time together. Watching everything be new to her, it was as if he had gone back to his youth and was being taught by his lover, even though he was the teacher, he knew what he was doing. How had the role switched for him? He murmured her name as he nuzzled her shoulder. She suddenly grabbed hold of his neck and pulled it to meet her teeth, her primal urge to take blood and fight in this battle of bodily intertwining. He’d never been so turned on by anything she had previously done until now. The kitten had become a tigress. When she finally released him he saw that seductive look in her eye that said ‘Leave a mark on me and you’ll get one too’. It undid him. He came in one last thrust, eliciting a final cry from her as she had reached her end.  
He nearly collapsed on top of her, but caught himself in time. He did hear wheezing, exhausted gasps and looked at her. Her face was red, beads of sweat dotted her forehead and dampened her hair, and she was trying to steady herself with big gulps of air. He immediately jumped up and made his way down the hall to where her inhaler sat on the kitchen counter. So much for not running butt naked through her house, he mused as he handed it to her and sat her upright. She took a puff, a breath, and then one puff. Her body was still trembling in post orgasmic tremors, but her color returned, her breathing slowed. He pulled her towards him and placed forehead against hers. “Are you all right now?”

“Yeah.” She whispered weakly. “That was…incredible.”

He chuckled at the praise. He was more concerned he’d gone overboard with her. She’d been so eager and willing to go along with it that he temporarily lost himself in the moment. Rarely ever did he lose control. Would there ever be a part of him she wouldn’t affect? Once satisfied that she was stable, he left for her bathroom to dispose of the condom and run a washcloth under some warm water. He brought it back for her, and gently began to wipe her thighs, erasing light red smears. The warm cloth caused her thighs to twitch but she let him to his task. Her generous gentleman lover. He’d gone above and beyond the normal needs for a partner.

She was blessed to have such a thoughtful teacher.

He took the washcloth back to the bathroom, giving her just one moment of solitude. She spent it coming to terms with what she had just done. There was no regret. Even if they could not remain a steady, happy couple and parted for any reason, she had been glad to have him be her first. He re-entered her room, naked, his member hanging normally-which she tried to avoid gazing at-as he stepped in and picked up his briefs. He was quite aware of her watching him redress, something he thought he’d relish but instead felt oddly vulnerable to. There she was, sitting upright, slightly leaned back, stark naked and in no way flustered. He felt his cheeks flush as he slipped them on and snapped the elastic band.

“I do like what I see.” She said suddenly, answering his question from earlier. “But you already knew that.”

He sat down next to her, hand on her knee. “You surprise me Samara.” He confessed. “Here I thought you’d be the one to cover yourself and be embarrassed that I have seen you in such a state. It’s almost like you’re trying to seduce me again.” He turned a playful smile on her. “We both know you don’t have the energy for that yet.”

She giggled. “Charles Jones, are you getting flustered again?” She elbowed him when he had turned his head away just a little. She was enjoying having the upper hand for once, to turn the teasing table back at him.

“Please put something on so I am not tempted to take you again. I can’t promise I’ll be a gentleman next time.” He had removed his hand from her knee and rubbed the back of his neck. 

Bloody fuck, the minx has me by the balls already!

He kept his head turned as he heard dresser drawers open and close, the telltale sounds of clothing sliding over skin. When she returned to the bed, he looked at his adorable partner in another large T-shirt. He couldn’t see anything underneath, and it didn’t quell his lust like he anticipated, but it would do. He pulled her close to him, hands running along her panty clad buttocks as they shared a kiss. This Saturday had turned out to be quite eventful, even with all his daydreaming while working with her the night before, he’d never imagined they’d end up like this. Not that he’d change any part of it. He fell onto his back, while still clutching her, and ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he couldn’t stay, but he didn’t want to leave. As Samara rolled to her side he took the opportunity to shift himself onto his side to be face-to-face with her. 

“Will you stay a while?” She asked softly, her hand tracing his jawline. 

A while? Why not just ask for my heart on a platter? He thought.

He smiled. “Of course Bunty, I’ll stay a while. I think we both deserve a rest.” They both got up and pulled back the blue comforter and nestled beneath it, spooning up. Charles at her back, arm wrapped over her side, nose at her neck. He tucked his legs up right behind hers so no empty space was between them. The dragon was curled protectively around his lamb, but it was she who had his heart wrapped around her finger. They eased into sleep, sound fully and deep. For the time being, the world around them went on, but both of theirs had halted. There would be texts to answer, a dog to welcome back home, papers to be look over, a shower, a meal later on, but for now it could all wait.


End file.
